


fit for a king

by howlish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri-typical psychosis, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlish/pseuds/howlish
Summary: The prince has a birthday. Dimitri mini-drabble set mid-timeskip AM.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	fit for a king

The passage of time was near incomprehensible these days. Dimitri spent his days, his years, staring at nothing, listening to whispers that drowned out birdsong and howling winds alike. He counted only in bodies that piled at his feet, and seasons. Winter was almost bearable. Thick blankets of snow deafened the world and let the ghosts in his ear speak plain, they stood against pure white backdrops, and everything sharpened, a little clearer. He felt truly alone, and when he wasn’t, the crunches of enemy boots in snow were unmistakable.

Today’s were lighter than he expected, but every sound put him into fight mode anyway (flight was forgotten a long time ago). The soft, hesitant steps on the other side of the wall he sat against spoke of… fear, perhaps. Caution, more likely. They should be afraid, though; only a thin layer of stone separated them from their death. The steps rounded a far corner, would have to go all the way around to the single entrance-- but there was a sound of scuffing, and the soft thump of something small hitting the ground. Dimitri perked up, brows furrowed, waiting for some indication of foul play.

Instead, he heard a quiet whine, too small to be heard if not for the silencing nature of snow. “I almost dropped them..”

Dimitri held his breath. A child, an innocent, and the scuffing sound came again followed by quicker footsteps in the familiar pattern around to his open doorway. He followed the sound with his good eye, surprise and a fear of his own keeping him silent, until finally her small frame blocked the sun in the lower half of the doorframe.

“E-excuse me…” Her voice was shaking, though the powder all up her legs said it was not from the terror he was used to hearing.

After a long moment, deciding if she was real, he finally growled out, “You should not be here. It’s dangerous.”

“I-I know.” She sounded… sheepish. “But, um… my papa said it was the prince’s birthday today.” He was instantly struck, all further protests knocked from his head as he tried to connect the dots. She did it for him, though, kneeling down and placing her covered basket on the floor.

When he didn’t immediately answer, she got to her knees, and scooted it further into the darkened room before scurrying back to the doorway. “They’re muffins. I’m not a very good cook yet, but papa said my baking is fit for a king! S-so I… I thought…”

She wanted reassurance that it was alright, he knew, but he could not find the words. He had been prepared to kill her. If she hadn’t been so clumsy, he might have. Thick tears obscured his vision, and though he wanted to shrink further into the shadows, he first managed the strength to pull her basket closer to him.

She could not see him clearly, he knew, and he was glad for it. He grabbed a muffin at random and bit into it. She waited, hesitant by the door, unsure if she was meant to leave or stay, and he swallowed. It tasted the same as everything else, but he answered her unspoken question truthfully: “Your father is right. I have never tasted better.”


End file.
